


Mitsein

by reremouse



Category: Sommersturm (Summer Storm) (2004)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-20
Updated: 2009-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 19:01:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reremouse/pseuds/reremouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tobi didn't answer any of Leo's letters.  He read them. But he didn't answer them. A story in which the learning curve in Berlin is steep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mitsein

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jess (sloganeer)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sloganeer/gifts).



> Mitsein is one of Heidegger's newfangled terms for his newfangled philosophy. It translates roughly to _Being With_ but [Wikipedia has a slightly more helpful description as usual](http://en.wikipedia.or/wiki/Heideggerian_terminology).
> 
> Thanks to LiveJournal's Katekat1010 for the poster, savoytruffle for the invaluable title help and beta support and cordelianne for the beta support and all three of them for the unflagging faith in my ability to get it done on time.
> 
> Jess, I hope this is something like what you hoped to see even if it's a lot shorter than I hoped to give you. I was so excited to see that the things you like are the things I like to write. Thanks for making my first yuletide bright and Merry Christmas to you and yours.

"Don't think you can just walk in here and replace Malte."

"I won't," Tobi says to his shoelace.

"Just because you were hot shit in Bavaria doesn't mean you can make it in Berlin."

"Of course not," he tells the locker.

"Well...good. I'm glad we've got that sorted out," Oli tells the taps because Tobi's looking at him now and he seems to lack the ability - for the moment - to look Tobi in the face. The remains of a black eye might have something to do with that but Tobi's never been much for self defense and it's not as if Oli had anything to do with it.

"May the best man win," he says to Oli's shoulder and holds out a hand.

Oli looks down at Tobi's hand. "Right."

"Oh don't be stupid, Oli," Nils says straight to him because he's apparently the only one in the room prepared for that kind of thing. "Just shake his hand."

Oli does.

"May it go the best man," Tobi says.

"It will."

 

* * *

  
"Don't think this means you're the best man," Oli says.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Tobi assures him. Because he's here to compete as a rower, not a man.

There's only one of those competitions he's likely to win anyway and he's had his fill of futility, so he adds: "You're more man than I'll ever be."

Oli looks like he'd been planning to answer a very different comment. "Well - damn right I am."

And that settles that.

"Do you want to go out drinking with us?" Nils offers in spite of Oli's none too subtle attempts to prevent him from asking. Tobi would be hurt, but he's not taking any of this personally. "First time out as a team. Niels and Leo will be meeting us there."

"Can I take a rain check?" Tobi pulls on a sweater and smooths his hair back into place.

"Got a hot date?" At last, Oli shows some interest.

"Very hot," Tobi says after a moment of consideration.

* * *

"Tobi! Hurry the fucking fladenbrot!"

"Coming!" Tobi flings the last piece of bread onto the tray, pulls the foil over it all and dodges the fry station on his way to the front. Where the Saturday night line stretches out the door and down the street. He wipes his sleeve across his forehead before his sweat can drip into the tray and slots it into the empty station on the line.

"Don't just stand there!" He fumbles and catches the empty tray when it hits his chest and spins with the impact. "Go make more before we have a mob!"

They'll have a mob anyway but Tobi doesn't argue. He'll take a hot griddle over a crowd of doner-hungry drunken Berliners any night - and does.

But the griddle is extra hot and feels like it keeps getting hotter the longer the night lasts until he's staggering out the back door into the cool Spring morning in a soaked t-shirt with a wad of cash in his back pocket, the only sober man for blocks.

Or that's how it feels anyway.

He's learned the hard way that it's him and the guys who prey on drunken Berliners with too much money in their pockets this time of night so now he makes effort to look extra sober.

Also poor.

And like he gave as good as he got getting the black eye, which he didn't. Moving to Berlin was a steep learning curve.

Lesson one: adjusting to small quarters.

He's got a little flat over a drycleaner's and the good part's that he won't have to worry about heating it in winter because it's always hot. The bad part's that it's a flat and that means neighbors and neighbors mean noisy sex in the middle of the night.

Fortunately, working the late shift at the Doner Haus means he's not home for most of it.

Which is actually why he volunteered for the late shift in the first place.

It's not like he has a social life anyway.

Or balls, apparently.

If he had balls, he'd have a social life. And possibly someone to make the loud sex noises with thereby annoying his neighbors in turn which seems to be a valuable part of the experience of flat living.

 

* * *

  
"Leo's meeting us after he gets off shift," Nils says with a hand over the mouthpiece of his cell. "Doner all right, everyone?"

Tobi is the lone dissenter.

He doesn't elaborate.

He does suggest pizza.

And when he offers to pay, it becomes unanimous. The irony, of course, is that Tobi's going to be the only one with too many butterflies in his stomach to eat. "Where's he working?" he asks in an effort to distract the butterflies.

"He's doing his nine months of community service." Niels takes the phone from Nils and tucks it into his bag. "At St. Hedwig. Which works out well for him since he'll be studying to become a nurse anyway."

Nils fits neatly under Niels' arm and Tobi wonders if he'll ever be comfortable enough to do that out here on a city street. "Where did you do yours?" Nils asks.

"I had garrison duty."

"You joined the _army_?" Oli all but chokes on his apple. "Why ever did you do that?"

"It was only for nine months. It's not that much," Tobi explains. And anyway, it was easier. Expected too and he's made enough waves for one year, hasn't he? "Were you all conscientious objectors then?"

"Of course we were," Niels says as if it's unthinkable to expect otherwise. "Or will be," he adds with a nod to Nils.

"After the regatta," Nils agrees. "I'll be working at a children's home. Don't know where yet, but I'm looking forward to it."

"I'm not," Niels disagrees. "It could be anywhere. I won't see you for weeks at a time."

"I'll make it up to you..."

And they're off of course which leaves Oli for Tobi to talk to. Well, Oli or himself and it's a toss up until Oli offers his hand. "What's that?"

"It's a hand, stupid. You take it and shake it and I move on without holding a grudge against you and then we break bread together. It's traditional."

It isn't a bad idea.

Tobi takes the suggestion and the hand and they do move on. All the way to the pizza parlor where there's no bread to break but Tobi manages to eat a full slice and a half before Leo arrives still in his scrubs.

They have Smurfs all over them and Tobi tries hard to not find them adorable.

And fails.

And covers the fail with a mumbled promise to get more drinks from the counter. Unfortunately, when he comes back, the only seat available at the table is next to Leo.

Who's saved it for him.

"Thanks," Leo says and takes a beer. He isn't quite smiling, isn't quite not smiling when he says, "it's been a while."

"It has," Tobi agrees. He failed to answer every single letter Leo wrote. He didn't ignore them. Just failed to answer them. And then - well - he started his nine months at the garrison and he never sent Leo his new address either.

The letters stopped around Christmas.

Leo clinks his beer against Tobi's and simply says, "I'm glad you made the team. You'll be a good captain."

And Tobi's not sure what to make of that, so he doesn't make anything of it. But he does drink his beer and finish his pizza and he's not feeling too bad once they all pour themselves out into the cool Spring night and go their separate ways because the fladenbrot won't grill itself.

"I'll see you at practice," Leo calls after him.

Tobi hesitates and then turns and he suspects he might be smiling. "That you will. How's your arm?"

"Ready for anything you can throw at it."

Now Tobi knows he's smiling when he says, "I'll make you regret that."

"Well - you can try."

 

* * *

  
Tobi does try but it's not Leo who cracks.

"You're a sadist!" Niels complains even though he's the one with Nils massaging his shoulders.

"Someone has to whip you pansies into shape." Tobi's shoulders are screaming murder at him and flipping fladenbrot is the last thing he wants to do but he'll be damned before he lets anyone see it.

"Us pansies?" Oli gives Tobi a significant look.

Tobi simply flexes a bicep. "I may be gay but I'm no pansy." At least something worthwhile came out of the army.

"I say we toss him in," Nils says.

Niels falls forward with a groan, exposing more of his spine to Nils' hands. "I'm too tired to toss him in."

"That makes two of us. You bastard." Oli halfheartedly shoves Tobi with a foot. "I'm even too tired to go out dancing."

"I'm too sore to even think about dancing," Niels says.

"But...Niels..." Nils leans up and whispers into Niels' ear.

"I said _dancing_."

"Oh, that's all right then."

"I'm too tired to even listen to this." Oli claps his hands over his ears, and shuffles off, loudly singing. Off key.

"He's off key," Niels complains.

"But happy," Tobi says. "Because we're a damn fine team in peak condition!"

"If we don't die first."

"That's what you get going into civil service instead of the army. It makes you soft." Tobi is absolutely without sympathy. Or at least, he plays it well.

"You see?" Niels asks Nils, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him away - possibly before Tobi can require another round of push ups. "This is what the army breeds into our young men. Too much aggression."

"Well, I don't mind a little aggression..."

Niels looks at Nils in horror and Tobi's still laughing at them when they're out the door.

It feels good.

Leo's hand, when it presses on his arm, also feels good.

Tobi does not go home with Leo that night.

 

* * *

  
He goes home with Leo the next night.

He doesn't say, 'You live _here_?' when they slip through the gate at the end of a long driveway with a damned enormous house on the other end. Because he can't imagine Leo living here; it's just too hard. And they veer away from the house anyway, across the lawn and stream and through a patch of blackberries. He doesn't ask who does live in the big house either.

He doesn't need to because Leo says, "That's Malte's house."

And after that, Tobi doesn't say anything because he's speechless, though it will occur to him later that there are several questions that should have come to mind about then. 'You live with Malte?' would top his list.

Or it would if Leo didn't pull him through the trees by the hand to a clearing with a much smaller and more humble home. "I look after his horses."

There's silence, or near silence anyway. It's filled with the usual woodland sounds...leaves, crickets, horses, apparently.

"Malte has horses?"

Leo shrugs a 'what can you do?' shrug. "He's filthy rich."

"How filthy?"

"Absolutely disgusting."

Tobi thinks he might not mind being at least a little disgusting himself. He also thinks he's the worst kind of coward because he isn't kissing Leo and really isn't doing more than holding Leo's hand when he'd rather be doing much more and is a little disgusted with himself after all because he doesn't seem to be doing anything about it.

Yet.

Leo asks, "Would you like to come in?"

Tobi would. And does.

* * *

The shower in Leo's cottage isn't much bigger than the stall in the youth hostel but this time, Tobi isn't fully dressed and freezing, and more importantly, isn't alone. He's bending his fingers against the wall, and gasping into the water because Leo's hands are slippery with soap and warm and just there, feeling his skin from throat to thigh.

Mouthing the water from his shoulder.

But it's Tobi who tilts his head.

And Tobi who catches Leo's lips in a kiss and turns around and leans back against the wall with the slick soapy film between them and whose hands shake when they shape themselves over the curves of Leo's buttocks and squeeze him closer.

Leo gasps.

And it tastes wonderful.

* * *

Tobi does not go home.

And he doesn't go to work because even the man behind the grill has a night off occasionally and this is it.

But he doesn't sleep either. Not yet. Not with Leo spooned behind him with an arm over his waist, breathing lightly into the nape of his neck with the horses and bugs and leaves outside the half open window and sweat cooling on Tobi's skin.

Because he wants this and it surprises him. The wanting does.

If anyone had asked Tobi months ago if he wanted anything, he'd have said 'nothing in particular' or possibly just 'no.'

Not the good job making cars that's all he's been trained for at school. Not the promotion from garrison duty. Not even a promotion to the counter at the Doner Haus or a nicer flat, not really. Even winning the next regatta is months away.

So he finds himself wanting _this_ even though he's not entirely able to put his finger on what this is.

Just - this.

The crickets outside the window and trees and leaves and horses and the sweat on his skin and the taste of Leo in his mouth.

Leo mumbling in his ear, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Go back to sleep."

Even Leo's snort of disbelief. He could get used to it and he's not exactly sure how that came to happen. "You're such a bad liar," Leo says.

"How can you want me?" Tobi answers. Not the question Leo was about to ask again of course. But the one they'd get to eventually after digging through layers of Tobi's self-defense mechanisms and Leo's patient silences and maybe one of them needs to be impatient. It gets things done.

Leo considers the question. "I don't know," he concludes, less than reassuringly. "I just do."

"I didn't even answer your letters."

"You read them though, didn't you?"

Every one of them. Multiple times. "Yes."

"There. You answered them."

Tobi doesn't get it. And says so.

"You're here," Leo says by way of explanation, drifting back to sleep.

Tobi continues not sleeping until he falls asleep too.

And Leo's still there when he wakes up, with an arm around Tobi and a magazine open on the night stand.

"Greece won Eurovision," Leo says, and, "There's bread and cheese for breakfast. If you want."

Tobi does.


End file.
